


Mirage

by Linana (Awsomeangel)



Series: Steampunk/Occult [1]
Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Occult, Alternate Universe - Steampunk, Eichi is the 'little prince', Gen, angst (kinda)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2017-04-05
Packaged: 2018-10-15 00:49:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Awsomeangel/pseuds/Linana
Summary: Natsume had thought it strange, the charms being cast in the cafe where he had first gotten the job, the remarkably well paved path for what had initially seemed like an impossible task, but his need for money and desperation to prove himself had blinded him. The signs were obvious, it's just, at that moment, for some reason, as if the world had donned some sort of strange mask, Natsume couldn't see.





	

_ The demon king was defeated. His family of four others crushed, broken and killed respectively. One escaped, though, a naughty little demonling who thought himself right and just in going against the kind prince who had sought to unify the kingdom. The little prince struggled and struggled and nearly gave his cursedly short life, but the demonling just wouldn’t confess to his sins. He stoically avoided the good little prince, who, at his wits end, turns to his most beloved sorcerer, the most powerful imperial magician, the absolute opposite of the hated demon king the little prince had nonetheless respected… _

 

* * *

 

There’s magic swirling around, thick, suffocating, sophisticated and pressing down on Natsume as if trying to crush him completely. Living and setting up shop in the industrial areas, Natsume’s usual magic includes hints of grease and oil, the smell of a gaslamp left on too long, and faded, dusty leather-bound books placed carelessly too close to the flame. Such casual magic, magic leaking from people who don’t even acknowledge its existence. Innocent magic, cruel and truthful as it passes by Natsume, running like a child through the streets.

This magic, though, is so self contained, proud magic swirling around magicians and sorcerers with deceptively charming smiles and silver tongues. It’s the sort of magic that’s uncomfortably intrusive, sliding over Natsume’s skin like how a lover would, as if wanting to find and expose his deepest secrets. Natsume loves magic, usually, but now, with the cold, overly sensitive skin of his arms bared, he’s far too vulnerable to the touch. Natsume tries his best to ignore the deceptively sweet caress, but it’s so  _ persistent,  _ forceful as it pushes against Natsume. Perhaps it’s never come across someone so aware of it’s presence, Natsume certainly hasn’t come across magic so aware of it’s own presence, even with all his years studying under the great magician Hibiki Wataru and the mismatched family of their small guild.

Natsume’s gritting his teeth against the feeling and pushing forward when he hears, “Are you Sakasaki-sama?” And then he’s putting on his best business smile as he turns to the voice, beside him, where a young man, snow-white suit crisply pressed and trimmed in silver, is standing by one of the large marble pillars at the edge of the walkway. He’s perfectly at home in the luxury, a notebook in one hand, short dark hair neatly tucked away from his eyes. Quietly, the man glances around before approaching Natsume and speaking in a hushed murmur.

“My name is Fushimi Yuzuru, I am a butler of the Himemiya residence. The young master has some…  _ business _ to attend to, so he will not be attending. For that, I apologize.” 

Natsume’s replying with a light, “It is  _ fine _ ,” with his habitual emphasis on the final word, when the man starts slightly, unused to Natsume’s uncomfortable speech patterns. As expected of such a high-class butler, he hides it admirably well behind a cough. 

Yuzuru glances up at the glare of the midday sun as he speaks, shielding his eyes with a delicately gloved hand, “Shall we relocate to somewhere more… appropriate?” Natsume brushes off a particularly persistent, touchy feely waft of high magic and nods his agreement.

Strange, Natsume thinks as he lets his arm drop, being the butler of such a distinguished family of sorcerers, Yuzuru must be a user of the silky smooth magic clinging onto Natsume as well, but as he leads Natsume to a nearby coffeehouse, his aura remains clear and untainted by any sort of energy. Natsume’s only ever seen such skill in hiding one’s power in the military, though he supposes for a spoiled brat like the Himemiya boy he had met earlier in the week, hiring his butlers from the military ranks wouldn’t be too far of a stretch. The uncomfortably blank butler glances at Natsume and smiles. Strange.

The coffeehouse is mostly empty of customers, the fragrant scent of expensive beans mingling with the sharp spice of the magic, and Natsume feels himself relaxing at the dim lights and calm, syrupy ambience. Not professional, he thinks, but the atmosphere is almost drug-like. Through the corner of his eye, he can see the maid at the counter weaving some sort of charm in the air with her entire arm. The movements look vaguely familiar, a downwards stroke, then a flick to the right, but Natsume can’t for the life of him remember the charm’s name or purpose, and he finds it hard to care.

“I do apologize for the location, but this case would best be kept confidential, orders of the master.” He makes his way to the nearest table. “I believe you know the details? The young master should have told you, but…” Natsume frowns slightly as he sits, thinking blearily Himemiya, the tiny, peach-haired boy barging into the Switch Magic Investigation Agency’s cluttered office while loudly complaining about the smell of the industrial area, seating himself in the largest chair and ordering them to prepare him proper snacks to go along with the tea. After announcing his opinion of Switch as commoners, or ‘cattle’, as he had called them, he had left them with an address and the instructions to meet one of his servants in the high end. 

“I’m afraid  _ not.  _ We were given instructions to come here today, but he left without saying much  _ more.”  _ Yuzuru’s sighing, tired as he presses two slim fingers against his temple. 

“Of course.” He murmurs, before looking up with an apologetic smile. 

“In that case, I apologize. I have the necessary documents here,” He retrieves a small bundle of expensive cream coloured vellum from his bag, handing them over to Natsume, who, not as shocked as he had expected himself to be, gingerly lets the expensive material rest against his fingertips, as if afraid of ripping it. 

“This is…”

“If I could be so brazen as to request you read before asking anything, Sakasaki-sama. I would prefer not to speak so openly about this case.”

Natsume scans the text, it’s a fairly normal request, investigate this man, who’s dangerously strong and under suspicion for something magic related, but the signature at the bottom catches his eye. He flips the parchment over, and there it is, on the back, the insignia burned into his mind after hours of studying it for some trace of evil through blurred, teary eyes, the insignia of the reclusive royal family. 

“His majesty emperor’s most trusted confidant has ordered us to investigate this case, but as the young master will be on a trip of sorts with the duke and duchess, he has requested that you complete the necessary gathering of information.”

“So you are dumping the work on  _ us.” Y _ uzuru smiles again, apologetic, but doesn’t reply. Natsume flips over the parchment with slow, lethargic movements, he scans it with an impatient eye, huffing out a sigh and folding the paper to slide it into his bag. 

“That will be worth  _ twice _ ,” He glances at Yuzuru’s expensive silk suit, “No, three times as much as a normal  _ case.”  _ Relieved, Yuzuru sighs, shoulders almost slumping for a second before he regains his composure and smile.

“Of course, we will work out the payment as soon as the information has been gathered.”

Natsume pauses for a moment, as Yuzuru makes a move to stand, and he waits until the young butler is about to leave, before speaking. Rather, he only remembers then, but Natsume’d prefer to retain his pride in his quick mind.

“Why would the emperor ask the Himemiya family to investigate this  _ case?  _ It’s well known amongst the common people that the current young master of the Himemiya family has no intention of fulfilling any duties to the  _ crown _ .” Yuzuru lets out a laugh, a forced one, as he makes his way to the door. 

“I must remind you, Sakasaki-sama, not to believe all that you hear. As it is, this case is something of a…  _ special _ … request.” Yuzuru exchanges a quick look with the maid, then exits the building.

Natsume watches him leave, the door swinging shut behind him, feels the magic swirl around for a second, lingering, and when he’s finally sure that the only company in the room is the sleepy maid behind the wooden counter, he pulls out the request. Carelessly, he spreads out the document onto the table.

It’s creamy clean, the vellum is, more expensive than anything Natsume remembers touching for years, and the ink is printed in neat calligraphy. Unlike many citizens of the poorer section in the industrial area, Natsume boasts the ability to read and write quite well, as it  _ is  _ a necessary skill for a investigator, and he takes in the simple instructions on the first page without much difficulty. The name listed at the bottom though, gives him pause. It’s strange but familiar, and as if the letters themselves are something sinister, Natsume can feel his throat constricting with sour liquid just looking at the thing. There’s an aversion to all things the royal family and court represents beaten into him, so it’s not strange to flinch away from the mention of the crown, but the name of some unknown fugitive... Natsume quickly folds up the expensive parchment and pockets it before shoving his chair back and making his way to the door. Out of sight, out of mind. When the fresh air hits, his mind clears a little.

The walk back is quick, the magic darting out of his way as his pace nears a run, and it doesn’t take long for the clean white structures piercing the heavens to turn into dingy black stone and dirty brown pipes pumping smoke into the greying sky. Natsume’s boots click along the white glass ground of the high ends, and then kick up dust in the hard-packed dry dirt of the industrial area. The sun is completely covered by the smog, and the magic is weak, without it’s natural source of energy, latching eagerly onto any living being for sustenance. Natsume covers his nose, even after years of living in the area, the smoke is nonetheless acrid and unbearable. 

The Switch Agency’s office is a small thing, on the very outskirts of the filthy industrial area, close enough to the high end to travel on foot. Located in a tiny industrial block of a building wedged between a crowded apartment for workers and a small shop boasting ‘beautiful dolls and metal stuffs: odds and ends of all sort!’, even with the over-zealous landlord and the rapidly approaching rent day, it’s a good a place as any luxurious shop Natsume’s been part of. Natsume heads straight for the the small wooden door of his agency. Inside, the peeling rosen wallpaper making the room appear even more confining and small then in reality, Natsume’s sweet little apprentice, Sora, is carefully inspecting the cursed glass doll from their last client on the large desk, his eyes narrowed in thought, and is that Natsume’s crystal ball that Sora’s elbow is slowly pushing closer to the ledge?

“... _ Sora _ .”

The boy bounces up with a sunny smile, his magic mingling affectionately with Natsume’s, “Master!”, and Natsume catches the crystal with a point of the finger as he makes his way to the desk, placing it back onto the desk with a flick and turning to Sora.

“I have the information for the next job, it looks like it’ll pay  _ well.”  _ Sora nods eagerly, and Natsume smiles fondly as he ruffles the boy’s fluffy blonde hair before pulling out the sheets, the small wizard would go far, he could tell. 

”Um… Natsume-kun.” Natsume feels his irritation rear it’s head as the third presence in the room speaks. 

“What do you  _ want _ .” Natsume spits. Tsumugi smiles sheepishly as he inclines his head to the parchment in Natsume’s hands, “Could I…”

“ _ No _ . I’ll  _ read _ . You’ll _ listen _ .” Natsume unfolds the papers, scanning it as he explains.

“The Himemiya family, that pink haired child is the young  _ master, _ has requested us investigate a man by the name  _ of, _ ” Natsume pauses as nausea rises at the sight of the name, “Hasumi _ Keito. _ The reason is not  _ stated,  _ though it mentions strange use of  _ magic,  _ and frequent absences not caused by his job, causing  _ suspicion. _ We are to observe until we find proof of his  _ guilt.” _

Tsumugi starts, unpleasant, Natsume thinks, but he doesn’t stop Tsumugi from speaking. 

“Isn’t that the archmage?” 

Natsume’s blood runs cold at the mention, ice shooting through his veins and Tsumugi takes the request from him with a soft murmur of apology, eyes flitting over the text. The magic swirling around is charged with Natsume’s discomfort, and it weighs down on the three of them heavily as Tsumugi speaks. Sora’s hand automatically lifts to the back of his neck, a habit Natsume’s tried his best to discourage Sora from, and Tsumugi quickly lifts his arm to cast a moderately difficult long-term calming charm, fingers sweeping into a downwards stroke, then a flick to the right, the small size of the weaving creating a fairly weak charm. Tsumugi is only a warlock, his charm soothes the magic in the room, but an experienced sorcerer or magician using large sweeps of the arm could transform the charm into a deadly weapon, practically drugging all those in the vicinity. Natsume feels his nasua recede slightly, and Sora slowly lets his hand drop.

“Hasumi Keito, he’s the archmage of the current emperor, isn’t he? Why would a noble family want us to investigate him?”

“I-it doesn’t  _ matter.”  _ Tsumugi glances up at him, and Natsume forces the tremors to stop.

“It doesn’t matter, we need the  _ money. _ ” Tsumugi looks back at the paper, frowning. He’s a stickler for rules, and holds the royal family in a higher standing than both his colleagues, having worked for them, the  _ traitor, _ and Natsume knows he’s hesitant to commit such an act, with or without the fear of punishment. They  _ do  _ need the money, though, they need absolutely any job that would aid them in surviving another day in the industrial area, Natsume can feel his irritation seep through into his magic, and he quickly calls it back.

“Hasumi Keito… How should we investigate someone with such a high status? We don’t even know _ how _ to do these investigations, we aren’t a detective agency! I don’t… Natsume-kun? Are you okay?” Natsume draws in a deep breath, “I’m  _ fine. _ ” and he wrenches the sheets back with a pale, red-knuckled hand. 

“Tsumugi-senpai, you constantly go help Shu-niisan next  _ door,  _ don’t you? You two can go over the request once more, I will start  _ there _ .” Tsumugi shakes his head, doubtful as he speaks of the stingy, reclusive hermit of a dollmaker, “Shu-kun’s quite reclusive, he probably won’t know-”

“He  _ will. _ ” Tsumugi looking at him with a quizzical expression, as Natsume opens the door.

“Shu-niisan used to be a noble, you  _ know. _ ” Natsume neglects to mention the harsh manner the dollmaker had been exiled. Still, Tsumugi, of all people, having been in the high end’s top university, who’s worked for the godforsaken  _ emperor _ should know just how  _ elitist _ the families are. Everyone who’s anyone knows everyone else. 

“Still-” 

“Do you have any better leads,  _ senpai?  _ Of course _ not _ .” Natsume slams the door with a huff. 

It’s getting colder out, though the warm billows of sulfurous gas pouring from the factories mitigate any sense of crispness to the air. Natsume forces his breath out, cleaning the stench from his lungs as he heads towards the odds and ends shop next door, Shu’s decrepit castle. 

The door swings open on well-oiled hinges, a small crystal bell modeled out of sheet thin crystalline butterfly wings clinking against the thin metal cage of branches curved around it’s ball-like body. Natsume passes the shelves of beautiful, expensive trinkets that no one in the industrial area can afford, and through a small door behind the old silk curtain in the back of the shop, into Shu’s private workshop.

“Shu-niisan, do you _ mind _ ?” There’s a long pause, as the dollmaker, back straight and stiff as a board, seated in a plain wooden chair at his plain wooden work table, carefully, carefully slides a crimson thread through the glinting eye of a fine metal needle, and Natsume pulls a chair from the worktable without permission, settling himself down beside Shu. Shu’s magic is calming to Natsume, like the silk he works with, refined and noble, and Natsume basks in its coolness for a second. Shu’s completely fixated on his current project, a beautiful mass of wine coloured silk, and his fingers are graceful, flexible as the tip of the needle dips into the cloth. Natsume doesn’t bother to say a word, he knows how the dollmaker can get when in the middle of some project or other, and he hums softly under his breath as he watches the yellow pools of waxen candlelight soak through and trickle down the expensive fabric. Shu’s fingers, magic-layered as not to catch on any loose thread, slide over the silky mass, needle flashing silver as it slithers through the sea of red, and he cuts the thread carefully with a set of small, deadly-sharp shears, before laying his needlework to the side.

“Natsume.” Natsume smiles sweetly as he rests his cheek onto the palm of his hand, fire dancing near his skin, and Shu quickly pushes away the candle before Natsume’s reddish locks can catch.

“Shu-niisan, it’s been a long  _ time. _ I’ve missed  _ you. _ ” Shu scowls, turning back to his needlework. Natsume continues, ignoring him.

“How have you  _ been _ ?”

“What do you want?” Shu snaps. Natsume feigns hurt, “I wanted to see  _ you,  _ Niisan!” but Shu scoffs at that, elegantly.

“Tsumugi comes often. You never feel the need to accompany him?” and Natsume laughs, as bright as the sun.

“I would rather not accompany that thing  _ anywhere.  _ Besides, my cute apprentice needs my  _ help. _ Shu-niisan and everyone else taught me that,  _ right _ ? I was never abandoned while studying under Shu-niisan, not until the very  _ end,  _ when I became  _ useless. _ ” Natsume stops abruptly as a trace of bitterness bleeds into his speech, he can never approach Shu without dragging up his past, and thus, he avoids. Shu scowls, but doesn’t grace this with a proper reply.

“It’s okay,  _ niisan.  _ I don’t blame everyone, at least, not  _ you _ .” Shu is silent.

“Where is that  _ child,  _ your  _ apprentice _ ? Isn’t he always with  _ you _ ? Or is he working on the-”

“Stop playing games. Ask what you will and leave, I am busy.” Natsume sighs and sits up, watching Shu out of the corner of his eye.

“Hasumi  _ Keito _ .” Shu doesn’t react, and Natsume continues, “Do you know  _ him _ ?”

“I do not.” Shu moves the fabric, letting a bit hang of the ledge as he continues his needlework in a new direction.

“But if you must know, Sakuma Rei may have been classmates with such a character, back in those days.” His lips curl in distaste. “How far the royal family has fallen.” Natsume flinches, his magic rearing sharp and pained at the reminder, “Rei _ -niisan _ …?” And Shu continues, “I’ve heard of a old vampire helping two orphans in an old church, at the outskirts of the high end.” Nodding, Natsume agrees quietly, “That does sound like Rei- _ niisan…  _ He’s always had a soft spot for lost  _ children. _ ” Shu pauses as he considers something. “That ‘Rei-niisan’ of yours is no more. You of all people should know that.” 

Natsume sinks back with a murmur of ‘Yes’, and waits for Shu to finish up before leaning forward to kiss the dollmaker on the cheek, smile back in place, saccharine sweet and dripping with honey. 

“Thank you,  _ niisan. _ ” Shu’s flushing pink, the tips of his ears dusting rose as he turns away, magic flaring delicately, and Natsume stands. 

“Be careful, Natsume. This case is indeed…  _ strange,  _ for that emperor. He is paranoid, I am hard pressed to believe he would entrust such a case to anyone, even a noble family. He would not risk the loss of image. This case seems… something like a novel  _ he  _ would like, as outlandish as the idea of an emperor hiring a peasant to investigate his second most trusted confidant is.” Natsume covers up his spike of emotion and wild magic at the mention of his past master,  _ him,  _ as Shu-niisan is quite fragile, more than one explosion on Natsume’s part never ends well, and he hums, “I  _ know.” _ Shu sighs as he shifts the fabric once more. 

 

“Did you find  _ anything? _ ” Tsumugi looks up as the door swings open, brows knit, and he shakes his head. Sora’s puzzling over the paper as Natsume steps forward to look over his shoulder.

“No  _ motive _ ? _ Leads? Anything? _ ”

“Nothing.” Natsume says shortly. Tsumugi speaks up for once, taking the paper, he’s usually so timid, Natsume finds he prefers him the way he usually is. “Switch isn’t a human investigation agency, we investigate artifacts, so-” 

Natsume waves his hand, snaps out his annoyance, “You can learn, can’t _ you?  _ Besides, how hard could it  _ be?  _ We simply find this nobleman and report when he slips  _ up _ , he’s part of the crown, he’s not likely to be too difficult to  _ locate. _ We need the  _ money _ .”

“Still… there’s nothing about the pay, or a time limit, or even where to locate our client…” Tsumugi sounds concerned, “It’s such a strange case.... Natsume-kun, are you sure this is from the emperor?”

“ _ Everyone  _ knows where the emperor lives, for god’s  _ sake.  _ The pay can be worked out, and I am assuming the time is written somewhere, just-” He tries to wrench the paper from Tsumugi grasp.

“What about master? Did master find anything?” Sora’s never been able to sit still and analyze, and he’s eagerly bouncing in his seat as Natsume succeeds in his efforts and tucks the paper away. 

“I do have a  _ lead _ .” He says this almost smugly, with a pointed glance at Tsumugi, as if snickering at his lack of progress. “Rei-ni-- Sakuma  _ Rei _ .” They look at him blankly. “...He used to be quite powerful, and he was invited to the University as a noble and high class  _ sorcerer.  _ It seems he was classmates with this  _ Hasumi-san. _ ” 

“How would we find someone who’s rich enough to attend University?” Tsumugi seem more concerned than he is doubtful, but Natsume brushes Tsumugi’s protests off with a scornful glance. 

**_“_** **Have you forgotten where we** ** _met_** **? You certainly seemed rich enough studying at the most prestigious University in the** ** _country._** Besides, _I’m_ the one who wants to forget that unfortunate turning point in my _life._ As for the location, I have the _whereabouts_.” He pauses, as if about to continue, only to think better of it.

“Let us be  _ off.”  _ Sora’s cheerful enough, bouncing after Natsume as he makes his way to the door, but Tsumugi hangs back.

_ “Now?  _ It’s getting rather late... _ ” _

**“Yes,** **_now_ ** . When did you  _ expect _ ? We owe rent in a week’s time, and we won’t be getting the pay without necessary sacrifice, will  _ we?” _

Tsumugi is silent, but he doesn’t protest as Sora tugs him out the door, with Natsume leading the way.

The sky is gradually nearing blackness, outside, though it’s not as if any of them can see through the thick layer of smoke coating the city. Still, all of the lights trapped within the little snowglobe of the industrial area are even deeper than usual, giving the grimy structures all around a crimson tinted glow. Like fire, Natsume thinks, dancing behind the grey ashes of the buildings. Tsumugi, ever the prepared warlock weaves a small protection charm against the smog.

Natsume turns away from the sight, retracing the steps he had taken in the morning, the steps to the high end, as Sora bounds forward with his arms spread wide, face aglow. Natsume rarely has had a need to travel to the High End, and by extension, Sora, born in the slums and found by Natsume only years before, has only ever seen colours untainted by smoke through the colours of sounds and energy, colours picked up only by his sharp eyes. Switch is too small, after all, to catch the attention of any sorcerers or magicians who might invite them to the high end.

Until now, that is.

It’s silent, for a while, with the only sound being the distant screeches of gears, metal being dragged along metal, and the sickly sloshing of the large river nearby, the sound of the little liquid there is left in the river hitting the oil-slicked metal banks. Sora’s footsteps are light, tapping against the dusty plates of dirty cobblestone as he runs ahead.

“Sora’s never seen that colour before!” Sora’s veering off the main road before Natsume can stop him, his magic leaping in bounds before him, and just like that, he’s stepping over the invisible line that separates the industrial area and the outermost ring of the high end and eagerly squishing his nose against the glossy light pane of a glassmaker’s worship. There are little trinkets lined up against the viewing screen, small red dragons with miniscule horns tapering out into shiny flakes of gold, perfect crispy globes of white morning frost and silver gilded wings the size of Sora’s little finger. The colour in question, though, lies in the small record player behind the display, warbling away some tune or other, a rare technology that exists only amongst aristocratic magicians. Sora’s smile is wide, eyes like stars, the brilliant light and colours of the high end are something completely new and foreign, something he’s only glimpsed in the faint explosions of colour and sound inside his mind. Natsume lingers beside Sora for a second, eyes sweeping over the display, letting nostalgia take him for a brief moment,  _ ‘Shu-niisan, I want the dragon, please?’,  _ and then back to reality. He ruffles Sora’s hair and promises the small wizard, “We’ll be right back,  _ okay _ ? Right after this  _ case, _ ” And then offers Sora his hand.

“Sakuma-san should be right around  _ here. _ ” All around are dingy, overgrown but nevertheless expensive structures, towering neo-gothic buildings fighting for room with the older, grander architecture of the past. Most of the are abandoned, or at least, appear to be, and with all the signs either scratched out or rotted, there are no indicators of each building’s purpose.

“In an abandoned  _ church…  _ He’s hiding out with two  _ children _ .” 

_ Which one?  _ Natsume glances behind him, at Tsumugi, who’s staring at a large but simple structure with a tower rising in the middle. Despite the chapel, it’s far too small compared to the grand castles Natsume’s used to seeing in the High End, and Natsume dismisses it. 

“That can’t be  _ it.  _ We’re looking for a church, not some small  _ storehouse. _ ” Sora looks towards the same structure, head tilted. 

“Sora thinks it looks church-y. There’s a chapel, see?” Natsume scoffs, “ _ Of course  _ that tiny thing isn't a  _ church, _ ” But Sora’s already running towards it without a care in the world, already pushing at the huge wooden doors. 

“That’s not a  _ church _ !” Natsume calls after him with a huff.

“Natsume-kun, maybe we should at least check…?” Tsumugi sounds nervous, and Natsume turns on him with a glare of righteous anger. 

“Senpai, you went to the same University as I, didn’t  _ you.  _ That tiny thing, does it look like the church on  _ campus _ ?” Tsumugi looks so confused, Natsume finds it hard to call him out on his blatant lie when he replies softly, “Was there a church on campus…?” The church was a huge structure, far too big to be overlooked by any student, but Natsume’s disbelieving glance is met only with more confusion.

Meanwhile, Sora’s pushing the doors with both hands, his slim straining slightly under the large, heavy wooden things. They swing open a crack, and Natsume reluctantly peers inside. It’s dark, dusty, but there are no pews, and in the back, a large, stage-like area with a bit of a slope rises from the darkness. Natsume’s about to turn with a smug air of superiority, when he sees something that halts his step. There’s a coffin, in the middle of the stage, Natsume notices with a sinking feeling in his stomach, a very  _ familiar  _ looking coffin with wheels glinting, fixed to the bottom, wheels Natsume still remembers installing onto Rei-niisan’s bed. He reluctantly ventures into the inky blackness, Sora and Tsumugi a bit behind him. 

_ My coffin is quite spacious, actually. Would Natsume-kun like to try?  _ It’s a young man’s voice, though the tone is like an elder’s while speaking to a child, and Natsume brushes his memories away with a shudder.

“Guests?” Tsumugi lets out a strangled sound, whirling around, coming face to face with a smiling demon, all pale skin and sharp teeth and flaming red eyes, standing just behind them, by one of the rows of seats.

“Rei- _ niisan. _ ” The demon turns to Natsume, his syrupy dark magic flooding Natsume’s senses, delightedly reaching out to pet his head. Natsume slaps his hand away.

“Natsume-kun, how good to see you! How have you been? How many years has it been?” Natsume sighs, “Five years,  _ Niisan. _ ” And Rei smiles fondly. 

“My memories have been getting terribly fuzzy, lately, though I suppose you young ones would rather not listen to the blatherings of an old man like me!”

“Niisan, do you remember Hasumi Keito?” Rei’s not listening, turning around to busy himself with lighting candles gathered in clusters dotting the stage, a small flint in hand.

“You should have told me if you were dropping by, Natsume-kun! Unfortunately, the twins are already sleeping, and Ritsu’s away with his friends, there’s another frequent guest who I think you’d want to see, but he’s not been around in a while. Who are your friends? Would you like something to eat?”

“Rei- _ niisan _ .” Rei stops, hand hovering over the last candle, and he lights it carefully, before putting down the two candles and turning to face the group with a weary smile. He’s a young man, almost younger than in Natsume’s memories, though his striking red eyes betray his youthful features. He gazes steadily at Natsume.

“What would you like, Natsume-kun?” Natsume shifts slightly, as if uncomfortable with Rei’s stare.

“Do you remember a Hasumi Keito?” Rei sighs at the mention, his magic inquisitively brushing Natsume. It’s familiar enough to force a knot to form at the pit of Natsume’s stomach. “Ah, yes, Hasumi-kun… This is a poor place to converse, Shall we relocate?” And then he ushers them to the back of the stage, where blankets and a few pillows are laid out. There are two figures, lying curled up side by side, covered in layers of fluffy fabric, and Rei’s voice drops to a whisper as he leads them around the sleeping children, to a fairly secluded room behind the large stage.

“The twins have lived here far longer than I have. They’re both delightful children.” He gestures towards a stack of blankets thrown in a heap in the middle of the room, “Please, sit down.” Natsume shakes his head, “I’m sorry,  _ niisan. _ We’re in a  _ hurry _ ,” And Rei deflates slightly before leaning against a nearby table.

“What would you like to know? I’d be happy to be of assistance to Natsume-kun.” He looks at them, faintly amused, “But firstly, shouldn’t you introduce me to your friends?” Natsume nods, obedient, he doesn’t retort, doesn’t snap at Rei. 

“This is Harukawa Sora, my  _ apprentice _ .” Rei smiles, “How nice, Natsume-kun’s gotten to that age, hmm?” And Natsume frowns.

“Please don’t patronize me,  _ niisan.  _ I may be younger than you, but I am an adult now,  _ too. _ ” Rei laughs, ‘not quite yet, Natsume-kun’, and then gestures towards Tsumugi, who, trailing slightly behind Natsume, looks surprised.

“And this young man is…?” Natsume glances behind him, waving his hand dismissively, “You don’t need to worry about him,  _ niisan.  _ He’s just a  _ bug _ .”

“And what would this bug’s name be?” Natsume sulks for a moment.

“...Tsumugi, if you must  _ know. _ ” Rei smiles at Tsumugi, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tsumugi-kun,” and, startled, Tsumugi bows his head, briefly. 

“You as well, Sakuma-san.” Rei turns to the small blonde wizard at Natsume’s side.

“And Sora-kun, is Natsume-kun a good teacher?”

“Master’s the best teacher!” Sora’s bright and expressive with his arms, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he speaks. “Master comes up with lots of fun games to play! And master makes all sorts of amazing chemicals! Sora’s doing his best to learn!”

“That is truly wonderful. You’ve grown since our last meeting, Natsume-kun.”

“Hasumi Keito, Rei- _ niisan. _ ” Natsume’s irritation is evident, but he does his best to keep a level, respectful tone with Rei, who smiles placidly.

“Ahh, forgive me for going off track, I’m afraid my mind has been quite foggy recently, won’t you humor this old man?” Calming down slightly, Natsume replies.

“We are seeking information regarding Hasumi  _ Keito. _ Shu-niisan mentioned that Rei-niisan had once been  _ classmates  _ with such a  _ character. _ ” 

“I have indeed. What would you like to know?” Natsume reaches into his pocket, pulling out the slightly crumpled pieces of cream and handing them to Rei.

“Would you happen to know the location of this  _ Hasumi-san? _ ” Rei hums softly as he scans the sheet, cocking a brow at the abysmal amount of information.

“Unfortunately not.” Natsume visibly deflates. “Though, through hearsay, it seems that Hasumi-kun has been frequenting the slums lately. If you’d like, I can give you instructions on how to find a friend of mine, who can take you through the slum area.” He pauses. “If Natsume-kun knows, the slums are quite small. It shouldn’t take to long to search the area.” Natsume perks up slightly, but he pauses before answering, a slightly apprehensive expression knitting his brows.

“Kanata-niisan… does he still-?” Natsume cuts himself off, gritting his teeth. Rei smiles at some memory or other, “Shinkai-kun, hmm… I’m sure he wouldn’t have wanted to move from the slums he loves so much. Regardless of whether you’re going or not, Natsume-kun, the streets are dangerous so late, especially for you children. You should stay the night.” Natsume shakes his head.

“I apologize,  _ niisan.  _ We are in a hurry.”

“Natsume-kun...“ Natsume glares at Tsumugi harshly, but his own words die in his throat as, through the corner of his eye, he sees Sora sway slightly beside them, eyes heavy with sleep, but doing his best to not fall.

“It’s past Sora’s usual bedtime.” Tsumugi voice is soft, and Natsume sighs, “We’re in a _ hurry _ !” But Rei’s already heading towards the door.

“Sora-kun can sleep next to the twins. I’ll get a separate blanket for Tsumugi-kun.” Natsume hangs back, sulking.

“You too, Natsume-kun.” Natsume mumbles a small, sullen ‘yes’, as he follows Rei out the door. 

Rei leads them to the twins, and sets off to fetch the promised extra blanket from one of his many hiding stashes, Natsume still remembers from his days living under the vampire’s tutelage. Sora’s magic is weakening, and Natsume glances at Sora, who’s already curled up next to one of the twins, and Tsumugi who looks back at Natsume with an understanding smile and an offer of a quick sleeping charm. Natsume turns away. 

Rei’s not back yet, not even after several minutes pass, and Natsume pauses his train of thought, before giving Tsumugi a small nod, not wanting to wake the excitable Sora, and running off into the back changing room to find him. The hallway separating the back and the change room is short, and arriving at the doorway, Natsume steps inside. He finds Rei crouched over a chest, rummaging through it. 

“Niisan…” Rei looks up with a smile. 

“Natsume-kun, what do you need?” Quietly, Natsume clenches his hands. The vampire feels far more elderly than he had been, back when Natsume had studied under him, and Natsume doesn’t quite know how to feel about that. He can clearly remember the way Rei had bickered with the other three members of their guild, back then, and seeing such a fiery vampire reduced to a frail old man is… is… 

“Natsume-kun was not at fault, and Natsume-kun is not at fault now. It was inevitable, even if Natsume is humble and denies it, we were quite powerful, even, no, especially Natsume-kun. We were a threat to the crown, Natsume-kun, please understand. The emperor is a ruthless child, we’d have been attacked and disbanded regardless of Natsume-kun’s actions.” Natsume shakes his head, “That was not my  _ question! _ ” But Rei only hums knowingly, and Natsume lets himself hate his old teacher for understanding Natsume so well.

“Wataru-kun, too…” Natsume stiffens, the name of his past master unpleasant in his ears. He wants no familiarity with a man who had become the first in command and beloved confidant of the slayer of their family. 

“Please do not speak of the  _ traitor. _ ” Rei, thankfully, drops the topic.

“Natsume-kun, I only have one piece of advice. The emperor may be a child, but he is merciless and sly. He is still trying to weed out adversary, and Natsume-kun, being the only one of our guild escaped, is a threat. Do not get too deeply involved, do not let yourself stand out. Please.” Natsume is indignant, “I’m  _ fine! _ ” And Rei only scoops up the blue blanket with one arm and stands. 

“Let us go back.” 

Tsumugi has already fallen asleep, upon their return, and as Rei leaves them, claiming the night as his domain, Natsume lets out a resigned sigh and spreads out his blanket beside Sora, settling down. Sora makes a small sniffling sound, as his magic spikes. Nightmare?

“Who’s Kanata-san?” Natsume glances at Sora, curled up away from him.

“...No  _ one. _ ” Sora frowns, opens his mouth, and Natsume cuts him off before he can speak. Of course, the boy is ever curious, and Natsume agrees with the bug sleeping beside him on one point only, that Sora needs his sleep. He’s a child, after all, and Natsume racks his own mind for a short explanation that withholds sufficient information.

“Kanata-niisan was the one who taught me _alchemy._ He was searching for immortality for _fish,_ of all _things._ **Sleep now, it’s quite late.** ” Sora nods and falls silent, leaving Natsume to his thoughts.

“You don’t want it?” Natsume shakes his head, pushing away the cat plush Rei insists on pushing into his chest. Sora and Tsumugi are waiting at the bottom of the steps, and Rei looks disappointed.

“This will bring you there and back, you know, it has been charmed beforehand.”

“We will use your train tickets. Thank you, _ niisan _ .” Rei, sighs, but smiles fondly as Natsume adjusts his coat, tucking away the valuable tickets Rei had provided the night before, ‘leftover from my last trip’, he had said.

“It’s my pleasure, Natsume-kun. Do you remember the directions to the slums?” Natsume nods, stepping down.

“ _ Goodbye _ .” Rei stays inside, unwilling to expose himself to the rays of sunlight already piercing their way through the fluffy white clouds of the High End, and he watches as Natsume heads off.

“Farewell. Though now that you know where to find me, I’d hope to see you more often from now on.” Natsume pauses, as if hesitating, his magic brushing Rei’s tentatively, and maybe there’s a bit of the naive child flashing across his face, the child that had bothered Rei for piggyback rides and exploding gingersnaps while perched beside Rei on the edge of his coffin, but then it’s gone, and his expression goes cold. “...See you,  _ niisan. _ ”

  
  


”We're going to the slums?” Natsume nods absently as he puzzles over the note Rei had given them, folded, containing Rei’s signature, a drop of blood and the words, ‘to: Oogami Koga’ on the front, with  _ ‘puppy’  _ marked underneath in brackets. Natsume wonders, wary, if Rei had really sent them to some mangy stray dog, it wouldn’t be so strange for the senile old vampire. Natsume shakes his head and tucked the note away.

The slums… Sora’s birthplace and childhood ‘home’, Natsume’s never had the need to go before, nor has he had any desire. It’s a dangerous place, after all, especially after the emperor had taken control, ten years ago, and the military police are frequently dispatched to patrol there. Natsume’s seen the grim army mages and the church’s blindfolded divine legion, if only from afar, and he’s never had any desire to get anywhere near them.

“Do you remember much about  _ it? _ ” Sora thinks for a second, serious, before shaking his head. 

“We’ll need to take the  _ train _ .” Natsume remarks, and Sora’s eyes widen comically, bright with that childish wonder Sora always radiated, “Train?” And Natsume nods once more.

“The big ones? The ones with all the colours?” Natsume smiles at Sora, “Of  _ course.  _ Tsumugi-senpai will  _ pay. _ ” Behind them, Tsumugi lets out a strangled sound. Natsume ignores him.

The train is the one thing that runs through all three areas, starting in the heart of the high end, the largest university in the country, and then winding its way through the industrial area to the edge of the slums. It’s notoriously expensive, the food and accommodations if not the tickets, and Natsume’s only ever ridden it once or twice, back in his days as an apprentice, studying under his master. Natsume corrects himself quickly, that man, not master, Natsume’s master is no longer his.

Sora’s running forward, excited and bouncing, practically vibrating with eager energy, and Natsume watches fondly as Sora jumps around. The boy’s never ridden a train before, of course not, and through Sora’s excitement, Natsume can see his own youth, and the first time he had seen and ridden the large train, watched it soar through the air on crystal clear tracks with an expression of awe, fueled by shimmering magic powder. 

“Don’t get  _ injured _ ,” Natsume calls, and Sora turned around briefly to give a little nod, a grin and a cheeky salute before running off again. Natsume does his best to keep his fond smile from emerging.

The train station rises in the distance, as large and as pearly white as any of the sweeping buildings around it, and Sora cranes his neck, looking up with a gasp. One of the two trains is just exiting as Natsume pulls up behind Sora, crystalline wheels of clean dragonflame-tempered glass shedding veined iridescent light down below, the clear sun, something only visible in the high end, piercing through the crystal windows, casting shadows of ghostly passengers onto the cobblestone. Dancing around the shower of fractured light, Sora plays hopscotch with the cool coloured slivers, his toes brushing a splattering of red every now and then, and even Tsumugi finally catching up beside Natsume can’t dampen the warmth flooding through his fingertips and core. 

“The next train will leave in about an hour. Natsume-kun, what do you think?” Natsume spares a glance at Tsumugi, and turns towards the train pulling in in the distance. 

“We have a few minutes to  _ spare _ .” He calls out to Sora, who runs back to where Natsume is digging through his pocket for the tickets Rei had provided for them, and bounces on his heels, eyes bright. 

“Can we go now?” Natsume’s surprised, for a second, because Sora’s never the type to do things early, Natsume would know, from the amount of times he’s had to remind Sora to finish his charms practice, but his questions die as Sora gazes at the train with wide, expectant eyes.

_ Oh _ . Oh, of course, Sora’s never seen or heard anything like glass or crystal, at least nothing this pure, he’s never seen dragonfyre tempered glass or had flying lessons where he soars through the air alongside the clear serpent of a train, surrounded by crisp azure skies streaked with thick white clouds. Natsume checks his small pocket watch, a little gold thing with delicate doves swooping across the bottom, the wings forming the loop the chain is pulled through, and hums his agreement. 

“ _ Let’s _ .” 

  
  


The train is still fairly empty when they board, even magic is sparse, and they had spent the better parts of the hour wandering through the crystalline station, window-shopping through the market square within the station. Sora even clutches a prize, a small, moving dragon fashioned out of amber coloured spun sugar. They had been stopped by a beautiful blonde vendor, a honey-sweet amber-magicked sorcerer with a till filled with all sorts of moving creatures, delicately crafted from thick strands of caramelized sugar bubbling in a cauldron peeking from behind him, and at the sight of Sora’s wide, expectant gaze and glassy blue orbs, Natsume had, on a whim, handed over the few coins the dragon had cost. His pocket feels uncomfortably empty, now, but Sora’s wide smile soothes the part of Natsume that’s still berating him over the unneeded purchase. 

“It’s so  _ empty,  _ isn’t it, master?” Natsume watches as Sora bounces in his seat, both hands placed on the glass of the window looking out to the large high end’’s center, looking at Natsume over his shoulder fluffy blonde hair floating like a golden halo around his small face. 

“It  _ is _ …  _ Strange _ .” Tsumugi is flipping through a book, sitting neatly in the seat across from them, and he looks up as Natsume speaks. 

“It  _ is  _ rather early.” He says softly, magic nervously floating around them, and Natsume shrugs. It’s true that the train is most busy by the middle of the day. The train is, after all, used not for everyday work or activities, but rather large trips and official duties. Normal denizens of the high end rarely have a reason to board the train. 

“Master, it’s moving, it’s moving!” At the gasp of joy, Natsume turns his attention to Sora again. The train’s movements are smooth, the rich, slow tolling of a golden bell warning any late passengers of its takeoff. Sora immediately plasters his nose to the glass, watching the bright blue and pearly white of the high end begin to whizz past increasingly quickly, climbing onto the seat and resting on his knees for better viewing. Natsume lets his amusement show, smiling as Tsumugi worries over the safety aspects of Sora’s position, and he sits back with a small sigh. 

“How can it fly? Sora though master said nothing can fly without wings?” Natsume smiles as he begins to speak, coming up with a sufficiently mysterious answer, “Magic, of  _ co _ -”

_ “Master, it’s begun to  _ move _!” His cheeks are flushed pink as he tugs on his master’s sleeve with a small hand, long red hair pressed against his cheeks, skirt crinkling around his legs as he hoists himself up onto the seat for better leverage. “How does it fly without  _ wings?”  _ His master laughs, a full, warm sound, and then there’s a hand on his head as his master leans over him, long strands of blue ticking his bare arms, and his master smiles down at him. “Magic, of course.” _

Pushing the invading thoughts of the traitor away, Natsume bites his tongue.

“It is powered by spirit  _ energy. _ Not human, as that is  _ illegal.  _ For this train, considering the nature of this glass, it is most likely freely-given  _ dragon energy.  _ Can you remember the term describing dragon  _ energy? _ ” Sora thinks, perhaps recalling the term from one of his magical theory lessons, and speaks hesitantly. 

“ _ D-draco virtu… virtua…”  _ Natsume smiles, it’s advanced theory, and Sora’s recollection is enough to prove he’s read ahead.  _ “Draco virtutem.  _ Dragon  _ power. _ ” He supplies.

Sora nods and continues to peer out the window as the hazy sheen of clouds cloak the train. 

Natsume leans back slightly, Tsumugi fallen asleep in front of him, and his head bobs every once in awhile, hanging to the side. Sora is silently watching as the fluffy white clouds surrounding the train slowly melts away into thick grey smoke and pollution, and then a faintly brownish smog as they arrive in the slums. The train makes a few stops here and there, mostly in the industrial area, tired looking government officials without magic and military police with stained uniforms and a weary but nonetheless relieved cloud in their magic get on the train, preparing for a journey back to a beautifully clear-skyed home.

The high end is small, the slums only slightly larger, but the sprawling industrial area is larger than the two other areas put together. The train moves more swiftly than any human can hope to travel, but it takes the majority of the journey to cover the large expanse of factories separating the High End from the slums, nonetheless. 

Natsume closes his eyes, curling into his side slightly. He’s drifting off, when a memory forces its way through his sleep-weakened mental barriers. He can almost feel a large hand petting his hair, and he tosses his head at the touch, his eyes snapping open. Sora’s asleep as well, now, fluffy blonde strands pressed against the crystal window, and he sinks back with a sigh.

The train ride is fairly uneventful, but Natsume can’t help his sigh of relief as the train lands slowly, for the final time. Sora awakens almost immediately, he runs through the train and bounds down the steps two at a time as soon as he’s able to move, only to freeze once the smog-filled air hits his lungs. Natsume, following not far behind, hisses out his irritation, at himself, for not warning Sora, but it only takes Sora a minute to recover from the acrid smoke filling his throat, giving Natsume a little smile, trying to reassure him. Natsume steps down with a sigh, the glass of the train is tinted grey with soot, and Tsumugi lets out a strangled sounding cough behind him, whipping out his greying handkerchief, his fingers rapidly weaving a protection charm. Natsume rolls his eyes at the display, but is nonetheless grateful when the bitter taste of smoke leaves his mouth.

“Let us first get a  _ license _ .” Sora nods, but Tsumugi voices his confusion. “License…?”

“Yes,  _ license.  _ There are military officers patrolling the  _ slums.  _ Outsiders must collect a license based on class to ensure proper treatment, and to prove they are  _ legal.”  _ Natsume shoots Tsumugi a scornful glance, and scoffs at his weak laugh. “I’m surprised you wouldn’t know this simple fact, even considering your incompetence,  _ senpai.  _ This is the new emperor’s policy, did you not work for  _ him? _ ” He sneers at the honourific, and Tsumugi sighs with a murmur of apology. 

“Does Sora…?” Sora’s sound uncharacteristically nervous, Natsume pauses, surprised, and a bit thoughtful. Sora’s never been legally registered as having moved anywhere, after all, as far as the empire is concerned, the small green brand on the back of his neck marks him as a denizen of the slums. Still, they need the protection the license can afford them, all of them, from the denizens of the slums as well as the church and military police, and Natsume finds himself hesitating as Sora absently brushes his fingers over the nearly completely smooth skin of his neck. It’s dangerous, having a brand equivalent of a remote control with the amount of control it gives the crown’s officials, But there’s no way to remove it, not without a sorcerer ranked mage or higher, and one that’s an official citizen of the high end as well. Natsume’s practically exiled from his family and retains no status, he’d probably show up as a fugitive if he  _ did  _ try to ‘claim’ Sora, but just as he’s about to tell the other two to forget the license, Tsumugi shyly speaks up.

“Natsume-kun, I’m still registered in the University alumni archives so…” Natsume hates the relief he feels at the statement, so he shoots a death glare at Tsumugi, who freezes and apologizes, confusion lacing his voice. 

“So, um, are we going to…?”

“Of  _ course. _ ” Natsume beckons to Sora and stalks off, Tsumugi following at his heels. 

  
  


”Sir, we really can’t give you a license if you don't show us your identification....” 

“Why  _ not?  _ Are you so incompetent you can’t use my magical  _ signature _ ?”

“We can, but we don’t have any testing material in the slums-”

“I don’t  _ care-” _

“Natsume-kun, we need to get going, it’s nearly noon…”

“You’re the only one left, master! Let’s go! Sora wants to see the train one last time!”

“Shut  _ up, senpai! _ I can see, I have  _ eyes.  _ Sora, the train has most likely already  _ left.  _ We can ride more next  _ time.”  _ Natsume bites his tongue as the military police on duty stands, intimidatingly tall, glowering. 

“Sir, if you don’t have your identification, I’ll have to ask to see the back of your neck, as well as those of your companions.” Stiffening, Sora’s hand twitches as he unconsciously tries to scratch the back of his neck, and Natsume grabs it quickly without thinking. The officer doesn’t seem to notice, and Natsume glances at Tsumugi, who steps forward with a smile and a soft, “He’s with me as well.” The officer looks suspicious, but unable refute the claims of a University Alumni, gives a curt nod and a stiff warning to Natsume, who ignores the man.

“Let’s go.” Tsumugi says, resignation flickering in his eyes, but his voice strong and even a bit, god forbid, Natsume thinks,  _ commanding _ . Natsume opens his mouth, preparing a stinging barb to shoot at Tsumugi, but a glance at the suspiciously watching officer behind them forces his mouth shut. The dirt ground is stiff and unyielding as Natsume lets his step get just a bit more weighted with anger, but not stomping, of course not. 

Sora lets out a little sigh, and Natsume takes a second to looks around them. All around are dirty, rotting building, children younger than Sora watch them warily from between the building walls, huge, dead eyes peering out of tiny sunken cheeks and bony bodies covered with rags. The memory of a small, malnourished Sora with bleeding stumps for fingernails floats by, and Natsume tightens his grip on Sora’s small hand. Sora looks up at him curiously, but doesn’t question or pull his hand away. 

“Sora…?” Natsume freezes, pulling Sora behind him with a suspicious glare at the gentle looking child in front of him, who looks a bit scared, but curiously peeks behind him with a small smile.

“Sora, it’s Tomoya, do you remember? You were friends with Mitsuru...” There’s a pause as Sora thinks, and then his electric eyes light up, and he runs forward to take the boy’s hand, as if he hadn’t just returned after over five years of absence. 

“Tomoya! How’s Micchan? It’s been a really long time, huh?” He smiles sweetly at Natsume. “Master, Sora’s friend, Tomoya!” Natsume takes a second to glower at Tomoya for a second longer, before giving his best business smile and stepping into his role as an eccentric magician. It’s a mask he wears only with the children of clients, though he’s at a loss as to how else to speak to the child. Natsume’d rather not trust anyone, but he knows they need a guide, and he supposes Sora’s old friend is a rather more appealing option to any stranger. He takes a second to brush against the boy with his magic, but he remembers only after feeling the light spark of a magicless being, that the slums yield very few warlocks.

“Tomoya, good  _ evening.”  _ Tomoya furrows his brow, glancing at the midday sun, and Sora pouts as he tugs on Natsume’s sleeve. 

“Master, don’t be confusing!”

“Sora, I am simply greeting the little rabbit as is  _ polite. _ ” The small, mousy haired boy sputters at ‘rabbit’, and Natsume, who had simply picked the first animal to come to mind to refer to the boy as, cocks a brow at his resemblance to the creature. He can almost see a small nose twitching woefully as the boy wallows in a bit of self pity, and he beats down the urge to tease the boy more.

“Little rabbit, would you happen to know anyone by the name of Oogami  _ Koga _ ?” The boy whines under his breath, ‘I’m not a rabbit, though…’ but answers Natsume properly, if with a touch of confusion.

“Oogami-senpai? Sure, he lives just upstairs from us. Why would you want to contact Oogami-senpai, though? He says he’s a proud and noble lone wolf.” Natsume rolls his eyes, Rei-niisan’s friend sounds like just as much of a handful as the man himself, unfortunately. 

_ “Information.” _ He says bluntly. 

“Sora’s master’s master says Oogami-san knows a lot about Switch’s current case!” Sora adds helpfully. Tomoya looks a bit suspicious, but doesn’t question them. 

“If you want to come with me, I can bring you to our hideout. Idiot Mitsuru’s missed you way too much, even though it’s been several years already.” Sora looks a bit guilty. “It’s fine, you know. You got out, right?” Tomoya glances pointedly at Sora’s green license around his wrist with small smile. “We’re happy for you, you know. Even Mitsuru.” The rest of the walk is spent in silence, and Natsume watches Tomoya, unable to fully discard his suspicion. 

The ‘hideout’ is a small, unassuming industrial building, a small grey box with a door cracked and squeaking on its hinges, and the second floor has two windows covered by jutting bars. Around the are identical buildings, some with freshly-washed clothing hanging out, the wet fabric stained with the unavoidable dust and grime of the slum area. A small blonde head peeks out curiously, eyes wary, as if about to launch into a full-blown scolding, and red eyes widen at the sight of the two strangers following behind Tomoya, as well as one familiar face. 

“Tomo-chin, Sora-chin!” He frowns slightly at Tomoya, ”You’re late for the drill, you know. It’s dangerous out, I was worried!” Tomoya looks sheepish at that, and he apologizes quickly. 

“Don’t stay out too long, next time, ‘kay? The military police are everywhere.” He turns his attention to Sora, and looks curiously at the two others. Natsume takes it upon himself to introduce him and Tsumugi.

“I am Sakasaki Natsume, Sora’s teacher and  _ master.  _ This bug behind me is  _ Tsumugi _ .” The small blonde replies politely, if a bit suspiciously, “I’m Nazuna, Nito Nazuna.” It’s a familiar name, but Natsume has trouble placing it. Just as Nito’s about to speak, it comes to him.

“Shu- _ niisan _ …!” Nazuna tenses at the mention of Shu, and he stares at Natsume.

“You know Oshi-san… Shu?” He sounds fragile, and Natsume nods slightly, almost bitterly. Shu’s beloved, he spoke of ‘dear, sweet Nito’ only at his most vulnerable, when he wasn’t acting proud and strong for his apprentice. Natsume’s spent hours holding Shu’s hand while Shu’s apprentice sleeps, reassuring him of his worth. Shu agonizes over his doll abandoning him nightly.

The unassuming little blonde… Natsume doesn’t know how he possibly could have hurt the great sorcerer Shu so badly.

“He talks about you, you  _ know _ .” Nazuna looks down, as if guilty, and Tomoya clears his throat.

“Let’s get inside, okay? Niichan, it’s dangerous outside, right?” Nazuna snaps to his senses with a nod, and he leads them inside, where two other children are curled up on a small pile of blankets in the corner, sleeping soundly.

“Mitsuru-chin and Hajime-chin are tired from this morning’s drill.” Tomoya nods his understanding, along with Sora, and Natsume expresses his confusion with a hushed voice. 

_ “Drill _ …?” 

“Practice in case the military police comes. Sora had to do it to… before… But not so  _ much. _ ” Sora isn’t smiling, for once, and Natsume nods grimly. The situation in the slums are worse than he had thought.

“Anyways, you wanted Oogami-senpai, right? He’s upstairs.” Tomoya skirts the two children quietly and heads up a rickety set of wooden stairs, gesturing for Natsume, Sora and Tsumugi to follow. He smiles slightly, making small talk as they climb. 

“I think a friend of Oogami senpai’s coming to visit, later. Don’t tell senpai, though, he doesn’t know. I met his friend while out getting supplies, he’s always sleeping when we meet, but he recognized me at the supplies station. Ah, we’re here.”

They stand in a ratty corridor, in front of the door farthest from the stairs.

Natsume opens the small wooden door, and freezes. Inside the tiny, single-windowed room, surrounded by various medical equipment splayed across a dirty floor, a blue haired man is gently wrapping a bandage around the ankle of a silver haired youth, whose back is against the small cot to the side of the room, gritting his teeth. 

“Kanata… _ Niisan _ .” The blue haired one looks up, blue eyes wide, and his face breaks into a soft smile.

“Nacchan! It’s been a long ‘time’, hasn’t it~?” Kanata looks unbothered by Natsume’s pale face and stricken expression, and instead goes back to bandaging, humming softly.

“ _ N-niisan _ … I  _ thought,  _ you-” Natsume cuts himself off, nervous, and Kanata cuts the bandage and begins to tie.

“Nacchan, would you help me get the ‘pins’?” Natsume glances around, and out of habit, picks up a small, ratty tin of broken slivers of metal, handing them to Kanata, who takes a second to secure the bandage before standing and petting Natsume’s head gently.

“Thank you, Nacchan. Good boy.” Natsume bows his head slightly in thanks, stuck in a bit of a daze, but he quickly regains himself. 

“Niisan… I saw, that emperor, I saw-” Kanata presses a finger against his lips with a slight smile.

“Nacchan, there’s no need to dig up the ‘past’, don’t we live in the ‘present’, right now?” Natsume can still feel that child’s part of him who wants to run forward and cling to the alchemist, who wants to cry and touch his solidness, confirm his existence, but Natsume’s more larger, more rational self recoils at the idea. 

“You weren’t… You were  _ cold.  _ **You weren’t moving.** ” Natsume’s voice chokes in his throat, and Kanata calmly begins to pack up his medical supplies. 

“ _ Niisan-!”  _ Natsume looks down at a pressure on his palm, seeing Sora’s small hand weaving into his, and Sora looks up at him.

“Master…?” Natsume shakes himself, almost angry at how  _ vulnerable  _ he had been acting in front of his student, in front of that bug, and he takes a second to gather himself before he turns his attention to the silver haired one, retrieving the note from his pocket and handing it to him without further acknowledgement of the blue haired man. 

“Who’re you?” The young man (dog like, Natsume thinks, Rei’s judgement was good, maybe he hasn’t become completely senile) growls at them suspiciously, and Natsume holds out his hand placatingly.

“Easy,  _ puppy.  _ I think you’d want to read the note  _ first. _ ” Koga rips open the note, after sniffing it for any strange traps, and Natsume watches with interest as his face goes through a variety of emotions, finally settling on annoyance and disgust, and maybe a bit of happiness, though he covers it quite well.

“So that damn vampire bastard sent you, huh?” Natsume nods patiently, agreeably, and Koga throws down the note.

“I shoulda known, you stink of him.” Natsume frowns, hadn’t Rei claimed that ‘puppy’ was a friend of his? The puppy before them seemed more hell-bent on hating the old vampire, but Natsume presses on.

“We are searching for a man known as Hasumi  _ Keito _ . Would you happen to know of his  _ whereabouts _ …?” Koga looks vaguely interested at that, “The glasses bastard…? Why’d you wanna see him?” And Natsume perks up. A lead…!

“We are Switch, an investigating _ agency _ . We have been given the instructions to gather information on _ him _ , Emperor's  _ orders.”  _ Natsume can’t help but sneer slightly at ‘emperor’. Koga looks as if he wants to continue questioning, but at the mention of emperor, he flinches a bit, anger and fear warring under his disinterested facade.

“Sure, whatever. I don’t know him personally, but he’s been comin’ ‘round here often. He looks like some posh bastard, so I dunno why he’d come ‘round these parts, but he’s showin’ up at Ritcchi’s place at night a lot.” 

“Ritcchi…?” Tsumugi trails off. It  _ is _ a strange name, Natsume thinks, though he loathes to agree with the bug, and Kanata looks up from his equipment, almost dreamily, “Sakuma Ritsu-san. Rei’s younger ‘brother’.” 

Natsume vaguely recalls something about a dark haired boy, a bit older then Natsume, glued to Rei’s side. He remembers aggressive pouting matches and a small rivalry for the vampire’s attention, one that, much to Natsume’s childhood self’s displeasure and embarrassment, Ritsu had won.

_ “Natsume-kun, I’m sorry, would you be a good boy and review your magic theory in your room for a while?” A large pair of sleepy red eyes regard Natsume triumphantly from behind his older brother’s back, small hands clinging tightly to the bottom of Rei’s shirt, and Natsume fists his hands in his skirt with an angry hiss, but he only mutters a grudging. _ ‘’Kay.’  _ as he stomps off. _

“Ritsu has a similar ‘business’ to you, Nacchan, he finds ‘information’.” Natsume blinks, a bit surprised. An information broker, then. He hadn’t pinned the lazy boy of his memories as the type to enter any sort of customer business, though he supposes people can change.

“Would you know  _ where… _ ?” Kanata smiles. 

“I can take ‘Switch’ to Ritsu’s ‘shop’.” Natsume pauses, about to refuse, but with a glance at Sora and the brand at the back of his neck, a glaring sign of danger, and the thought of wandering through an unknown street passing his mind, he changes his mind.

“I  _ suppose.  _ Thank you,  _ niisan. _ ”

After a short walk, turning more corners than Natsume thinks necessary, Kanata leaves them at the door of the place, with a mysterious comment about having to get to a side job in a group known as ‘heroes of justice’. The office looks identical to the rabbit child’s, Tomoya’s hideout, and inside, the office is small, perhaps even smaller than Switch’s. A worn wooden door is opened slightly behind the desk. 

The broker is a silver haired individual with a gratingly irritated tone and an ethereal beauty that surprises Natsume and Sora and leaves Tsumugi tongue-tied. A half fairy, or changeling, Natsume had thought nonhumans had died out during the great war centuries ago, but living proof otherwise is currently sending them death glares while icily suggesting they leave if they have no business. Surprises about his race and species aside, the delicate silver thing is a far cry from the small, dark-haired red-eyed Rei look-a-like vampire child Natsume remembers, and Natsume doubts the brother of a vampire would be a changeling, anyway. Upon being asked, the changeling screws up his beautiful face in a graceful grimace.

“Kuma-kun’s out right now, what do you want from him?” 

“We’re searching for a man, Hasumi  _ Keito _ .” Izumi looks mildly uncomfortable the name, or maybe just disgusted, and his voice is quiet when he speaks again.

“We don’t know anyone by that name.” His voice is stiff, his words foreign and cold, but his eyes flicker nervously to the door and back. Natsume knows better than to look.

“We are on business from the emperor.” Natsume fishes out the now slightly crumpled sheets and holds them up, gingerly, avoiding touching the red wax, showing the emperor’s seal. Izumi looks even more uncomfortable at that.

“I said, we don’t know him.” His expression is closed off, and Natsume pushes a bit more.

“We have been told he frequents this place by a  _ friend. _ Oogami  _ Koga. _ He seems to be close with your colleague, you may ask him about Sakasaki Natsume, if you  _ wish. _ ” The beautiful changeling looks shocked, and his eyes narrow.

“Damn that Kuma-kun… he told his pet dog?” 

“So I take it, you do know Hasumi  _ Keito? _ ” Izumi huffs loudly as he rolls his crystal coloured eyes, but his hands, tightly gripping the counter, betray his nervousness. 

“He might have come near here at some point. That doesn’t mean-” He cuts himself off, staring, and Natsume lets his irritation show.

“You know who he  _ is.  _ I suggest you start-”

“Master, look!” 

“Sakasaki Natsume, was it? You are under arrest for misuse of the emperor's seal, forgery, soliciting with and aiding in the escape of a denizen of the slums, as well as harassment of an innocent individual.” Natsume turns, and a bespectacled man stands behind him, arms crossed, wearing the signature forest green robes of the archmage.

Hasumi Keito.

Natsume freezes, rapidly flipping through his options before forcing himself to calm down with a silent breath.

“ _ Forgery?  _ Impossible, I was given this seal by one of the Emperor’s most trusted families.” The archmage sighs, reaching into the pocket of his cloak and pulling out a nearly identical seal in green. The two seals are nearly indistinguishable from one another, and Natsume opens his mouth to inform the man, when he realizes something so obvious, he would have laughed if not for the situation. The other seal is heavy, crackling with energy so dense, anyone, even those without Natsume’s sensitivity can see it clearly. Natsume’s seal is flimsy in comparison, and with Sora and Tsumugi expressions, mingling between confusion and fear, they are also able to see. Two, no, four people come in behind Keito, similarly crackling with magical energy. Military mages. The magic used crackles, Natsume’s heard, because of the raw energy they push out from their bodies at all times. It’s a product of embracing one’s anger, they say. Natsume glances at Sora, who stands frozen, no doubt recalling some brutal memory, hand twitching to touch his brand, and he grabs Sora’s hand and Tsumugi cloak, dashing past the group and out the door without a second thought.

“N-Natsume-kun?” 

“Shut up,  _ senpai. Hurry! _ ” Sora is limp, letting himself be dragged, and Tsumugi glances behind them as the veer away from the main road.

“They’re not… chasing…” Natsume hisses at Tsumugi, “It’s a  _ trap! _ ” Ignoring Tsumugi doubtful look.

“Where are we going?” Tsumugi asks between pants as they duck back onto the main road, somewhere far from the information shop, and Natsume risks a glance back at Tsumugi.

“Kanata- _ niisan _ . I can… feel his  _ magic. _ ” He  _ can  _ feel it, surprisingly, at least, the remnants of the magic in the room Kanata had been in, helping Koga. It’s faint, but the familiar strands are impossible to miss, Natsume’s spent his childhood wrapped in them, after all, and even after they slow down to a brisk walk, for Tsumugi, it doesn’t take long to arrive. The door is closed, with a small note tacked on, and Natsume’s blood runs cold as he scans it.

_ VACATED BY THE M. P. _

How? After all these years, today? The military police take orders only from the king’s two most trusted court magicians, so, could it have been Keito? Natsume settles on the idea bitterly. Sora pushes open the door, and the inside is deserted. The blankets are splayed over the floor, as if thrown there, and the chair, the only piece of real furniture, is overturned. The acrid scent of military shooting spells still linger in the room, and the staircase is smashed in. A solitary rifle lies on the ground, broken in half and most likely discarded as useless, the material is too hard to do much with, and after war and raids, similar guns and spells usually do litter the floor. Sora crouches down and picks it up before Natsume can stop him.

“Master.” Natsume takes the gun from Sora, and sure enough, the crimson brand of the military police is stark against the black of the gun. 

“Ahh… I got here too late, huh… No one’s here… Oh, Natcchan.” Natsume whips around as someone speaks behind them, paranoid, and a black-haired red-eyed boy is standing, grimacing, at the foot of the stairs, one foot still dragging on the last step.

“That sounds strange… D’you remember me?” The boy speaks in a slow, sleepy drawl, and Natsume pauses to think.

_ I think a friend of Oogami senpai’s coming to visit. Don’t tell senpai, though, he doesn’t know. _

“Sakuma _ Ritsu? _ ” The little vampire, a fledgling, Natsume can tell from his unstable magic, syrupy and dark like Rei’s, though not quite as viscous, yawns.

“I ‘spose… You’re Natcchan, Sorarin, and... “ He quickly loses his train of thought. “It’s too bright… so sleepy…” Natsume realizes quickly, the middle of the day would be hard for a fledgling to experience, and he frowns. Why is he awake, then?

“Ah… I can tell what your thinking. Puppy wanted to play… so I came to tease him without telling him.” He pauses, his vampire intuition giving off waves of his magic. Natsume lets them wash over him, not bothered by magic so much like Rei’s. 

Rei… Natsume thinks of Rei’s invitation to visit. Rei still retained much of his status, if Natsume remembers correctly, and vampires are considered neutral forces anyways. An ideal place to hide from the emperor...

“Natcchan wants to be with Anija, huh. Bad taste.” Natsume brushes off Ritsu’s observation. True, the old vampire would definitely help shelter and shield them, but there’s simply no way to get there without a train, and trains are property of the emperor. Ritsu’s eyes glint in amusement.

“I guess I can help Natcchan… I need to see Maakun, he’s waiting for me in the High End, so I’m going anyways... Only to the sides, though. I’m not going near that bug.” Natsume looks at Tsumugi, who seems confused, and Ritsu laughs a bit.

“Not him… Anija.” Ritsu shrugs slowly, and Natsume takes a second to wonder about how much of Ritsu is still the same adoring child who had ‘stolen’ Rei from him for hours at a time. Judging from his current self, none. 

“C’mere, Natcchan, Sorarin, and you.” Tsumugi shifts uncomfortably as Ritsu points at him. “I’ll take you. Anija has strong magic, I guess I should be grateful.” Ritsu doesn’t wait, he sits down on the stairs and out brings out a little eye patch bat plushie from his pocket. It’s familiar, vaguely reminiscent of the cat plush portal Rei had pushed on Natsume, and he gestures for them to gather round before pushing his magic into it, focusing on the bat’s red button eye. 

“Ah… A warning, Maakun always gets sick after we use portals together.” And with that, the world grows strange. Natsume can feel his cheeks sink into his face, his fingers stretching, and then with a resounding sound, they’re left sprawling on a the abandoned street close to the church. 

“Natcchan… Bye bye.” The little vampire stands, brushing himself off languidly, and then turns to trudge off. Natsume watches him go, a bit confused, but nonetheless accepting, and a cry shocks him from his reverie.

“Master!” Natsume shoots to his feet as Sora cries out, a military police gripping his arm tightly, electric magic wrapped around him, threatening, and Natsume whips his head around wildly. Tsumugi is nowhere to be seen, but the singed marks on the ground, the dirt lashed by electricity is reason enough to believe he’s been captured as well.

“Master, get Rei-senpai!” Natsume pauses, about to run forward, but Sora shakes his head slightly.

“Rei-senpai can help.” The military police isn’t about to watch silently, though, and Sora and his captor are soon surrounded by electric magic, impenetrable to Natsume.

“...I’ll be  _ back. _ ” 

Natsume runs. There no one in his path, surprisingly, and no police give chase. Natsume’s too panicked to notice, though, and he stumbles as the tiny chapel of the church comes into view. It’s a short path to the church, but, Natsume’s heart pounds in his chest, and each step seems like eternity. He bursts through the doors after centuries, panting and gasping, only to be pinned to the spot by fiery blue magic, silk like as it slides over his skin. Not Rei’s magic, this magic is even more familiar.

Natsume narrows his eyes, straightening and stepping back as much as he is able with the magic surrounding him, the door closes behind him. 

“Wataru- _ senpai. _ ” The man smiles widely, checkered half-face mask fixed in place, blue hair as long as it had always been, clad in the royal blue of the emperor’s magician,  _ a traitor’s colours. _ He is poised, his smile reminiscent of the strict and demeaning master he had never been to Natsume. 

“Natsume-kun,” Natsume hisses at the way his name is said. Mockingly, as if speaking to a child. 

“This is a perfect stage for our grand finale, no? Natsume-kun is finally here, after all. I had expected you to arrive earlier, though this is fine.” Natsume glances behind Wataru, then at the door, through the corner of his eye, and Wataru smiles even wider, if possible.

“Now, Natsume-kun.” Wataru is speaking to his tiny nine-year-old apprentice who clings on to his every word, and it sickens Natsume. “Face me properly. We are no longer apprentice and master, are we?”

“We haven’t been for a long time, _ senpai. _ ” Natsume spits, and Wataru’s smile doesn’t dampen.

“Not since the battle, hmm?” He says this nonchalantly, as if it didn’t  _ matter. _

Natsume breaks.

“You  _ betrayed us!  _ Rei-niisan, Shu-niisan, Kanata-niisan  _ died  _ because of  _ you.  _ He fell to Eichi as surely as if you had cut him down  _ yourself.  _ You were  _ never  _ one of ours,  _ traitor! _ ” His magic swirls around him and bites everything in its path. The blue haired man before him, his teacher, his master, he had lost to the emperor  _ knowing  _ how it would affect Natsume, and then had crawled back to work for that emperor like some  _ dog.  _ Wataru smiles, his hand twitching, as if about to weave some charm, and Natsume’s eyes snap to the movement, paranoia coursing through him.

“Natsume-kun, remember not to let emotions control your power.”

“Stop speaking in  _ riddles. _ ” Natsume curls into himself bitterly, trying escape from the rampant crackling energy surrounding him, but unable to control his anger. Wataru sighs. 

“Natsume-kun. You have become as a child is, crying and flinching away at sounds under your bed. Does your magic no longer protect you? To continue to fight is a beautiful thing, inherently human. Struggling against an unknown enemy, though, is a foolish thing as much as it is noble. You avoid all things that cause you pain as plague. You have graduated from your role as my student, I have nothing left to teach you, so please, refrain from returning to such a childish state of being. Your magic is as strong as your mind, and as you are, it will never develop, never return to the glory it had waved farewell to me with.” 

“What do you know of being  _ noble, master.  _ Crawling back to the damned emperor like some  _ dog.  _ You eat out of the hand that destroyed  _ us. _ ” Magic spikes behind him, dangerous, and not his.

Wataru doesn’t answer, his stage-smile full force on his face, and the last thing Natsume sees before he’s knocked out from behind, is Wataru taking off his mask. In his hand, is the flimsy little piece of vellum with a fake emperor’s seal.

 

_ “Nonetheless, the story shall have a happy ending. After the demon king’s little heir was defeated, the good little prince safely lies down to sleep. _

**Author's Note:**

> Steampunk AU lol


End file.
